Word: shaving
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Until Tuesday night, the Common-wealth Avenue crowd had shown little in the way of basketball prowess, but that evening the Terriors came to life in the Boston Garden to give Holy Cross its closest shave of the season. The Crusaders won by four points. Previously, B.U. had dropped games to M.I.T., a Varsity victim, and Syracuse, while their only victory came at the expense of Clark University...
...minutes before he was to meet his date. Vag narrowly avoided careening into two horn-rimmed students standing in front of Sever, and looked briefly at a pair of Radcliffe legs on their way into Emerson. Two hours. Time to pick up the makings of the after-game party, shave, and get the room into shape. He hoped vaguely that the biddies would have finished by the time he got back. Vag crossed Mass. Ave. and moved down the sunny side of Plympton Street. Along Mt. Auburn the magenta flags with the black "H's" hung loosely. Not colorful...
...Francisco's California Street. There O'Neill suffered a paralytic stroke and for six months required constant nursing. The stroke was followed by an increasing (and incurable) palsy so severe that it made writing as physically impossible for O'Neill as it already was mentally. (To shave himself he still has to grip the razor with both hands and, even so, the act is nerve-racking.) For five years the O'Neills lived in their little apartment. During those years, O'Neill had neither the heart nor the hand for creative work. But those years...
...delegates to get bracers before the bar closed. At the finish, U.S. Economist Willard Thorp slumped down Luxembourg's red-carpeted stairway and crawled into an automobile. He groaned that he had a crick in his neck, cramps in his fingers, aches everywhere; that he wanted a haircut, shave, bath, sleep. As he left, Senator Arthur Vandenberg, sprucely pink, walked into the committee room. "Ah," said a reporter, "the day shift is coming...
...burnished copper. The bed (in the room I occupied) was a grass-fed sarcophagus. . . . The capacious copper wash basin made me feel that I was usurping the rights of the turnips at a steam-table lunch counter, and the light was directed at such an angle that I could shave myself successfully only between the shoulder blades...